


Keep Your Demons on a Leash

by rainydayrambling



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, POV Laurent (Captive Prince), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayrambling/pseuds/rainydayrambling
Summary: Laurent was in a rare mood, insomuch as it could be called a mood at all.  He wanted to claw himself out of his skin, tear every scrap of fabric away from him, free himself from the confines of physical reality.  Whatever mood that was, this was where he had found himself.  Pinned beneath Damen on the bed in his chambers -- a familiar place to be -- still dressed in his shirt and pants, though his jacket had been left somewhere on the other side of the room.###Or: Laurent is Big Horny, and he really just wants a solid dicking down.  But Damen, being Damen, takes the opportunity to draw things out as long as humanly possible -- and Laurent is very annoyed by this.  In a sexy way.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 221





	Keep Your Demons on a Leash

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just filth. But in a loving way! So there's that.
> 
> Title is from Hozier's "Arsonist's Lullabye."

Laurent was in a rare mood, insomuch as it could be called a mood at all. He wanted to claw himself out of his skin, tear every scrap of fabric away from him, free himself from the confines of physical reality. Whatever mood that was, this was where he had found himself. Pinned beneath Damen on the bed in his chambers -- a familiar place to be -- still dressed in his shirt and pants, though his jacket had been left somewhere on the other side of the room.

Damen also remained partially dressed, his chiton unclasped at the shoulder but still tied around his waist, so that the broad expanse of his chest was visible, if Laurent could keep his eyes open long enough to look, and able to be touched, if Laurent could have freed his hands to do so. However, Damen had rendered this impossible as he refused to free Laurent's hands. Instead, he kept them held down to the bed by Laurent's hips, his strong fingers wrapped around the wrists so that no matter how hard Laurent pushed or pulled to try to free himself, he could do no more than clench his fingers into fists against the sheets.

Despite the fact that he was still wearing most of his clothes, Laurent could feel Damen against him vividly at every point of contact. At the moment, he had his face pressed into the softness of Laurent's belly, his mouth trailing warm and idle kisses through the delicate fabric, his breath hot and pleasant against the sensitive skin.

When Laurent had told him, nearly half an hour ago, that he wanted Damen  _ now _ , he had anticipated immediacy, maybe even an edge of desperation. Certainly that was how he himself was feeling.

If he'd had his way, he and Damen both would have been free of their clothes in a moment, and he would have had Damen on the bed a second later. In his mind were half-formed images of climbing onto Damen, leaning over him, pressing himself down onto his cock, and moving to take his own pleasure. In these fantasies, Damen was just happy to be along for the ride, so to speak.

Of course, Damen being Damen, he did neither what Laurent expected nor what he wanted.

Instead, he had grinned, he had kissed Laurent slow and deep, holding him still, the bedpost digging into the small of Laurent’s back, until Laurent's knees had gone weak and he felt himself turn to liquid heat all over. And then Damen had pushed him down onto the bed and begun this slow torture, which he did not seem to have any plans of speeding up or ending.

Laurent should have known. Shame on him, really.

"Damen," he said, but even he didn't know what he meant by it. Surely he wasn't trying to convince Damen to come over to his way of thinking. He knew better than to believe that would work.

Damen looked up at the sound of his name, temporarily leaving off his current task -- nuzzling at the edge of Laurent's shirt, slowly freeing it from where it had been tucked into his pants.

Laurent could almost, almost, feel contact on his skin, and at this realization he stopped trying to speak and instead allowed Damen to do what he had been doing before Laurent interrupted him. He dropped his head back against the pillows again and closed his eyes as Damen worked.

Part of him wanted to watch, to follow the spill of Damen's dark curls as he relished his task like it was all he wanted to do in the world, but the little damp patches of fabric where Damen had touched his tongue and his parted lips were overwhelming, and watching Damen work so slowly only made Laurent even more desperate to speed things up, so perhaps it was best to shut his eyes against the scene.

Without the use of his hands -- which were still holding Laurent's resolutely in place -- the process of pushing up Laurent's shirt was a slow one, characterized by little nudges and drags of lips over fabric. Finally, even Damen gave up, and he used his teeth to tug the fabric free.

At the first brush of skin against skin, Laurent heard himself gasp, and he gave another futile tug at his hands, not even really trying to free them but unable to stop them from trying to free themselves.

Damen dragged his teeth over Laurent's lower belly in a parody of a bite, and Laurent shuddered, so Damen did it again.

And then Damen really did bite him, just below Laurent's navel, and the thing that had been trying for hours to tear itself out of Laurent shook and howled, though Laurent himself remained mostly silent.

He must have given some sign, though, that Damen was on the right track -- the arch of his back, the baring of his throat, the catch in his breath -- because this time when Damen latched on, moving slightly to the side so that his teeth sank into the muscle just above Laurent's hip, he didn't let go.

Laurent's arms tensed, pulling at Damen's grip. The pain from the bite radiated out in a perfect circle, deepening and throbbing when it reached Laurent's cock, already hard to the point of straining. 

For the next several minutes, Damen would push Laurent's shirt out of his way, just enough, and then bite down on whatever flesh he had revealed. Laurent could only imagine he left livid marks in the skin as he went, but he couldn't bring himself to look, afraid he would lose himself completely if he saw it.

Sometimes the bites were little more than gentle nips, the occasional tug of teeth, as when Damen hovered right over Laurent's stomach. Other times they were deep, bruising bites where he sunk his teeth in and didn't let go until Laurent was doing all he could to thrash and twist away from him. But Laurent never told him to stop, because it was this thrashing, this violent revolt, that his body seemed to want. It sank into and through him from Damen's teeth, down to the thing that wanted and waited, and soothed its frantic desperation.

It wasn't long before Laurent's body was sore with the new bruises and the fight of his muscles against Damen's superior strength. He railed against Damen's grip on him and it did nothing, got him nowhere, and somehow this set the heat between his legs to boiling and yet only made him want to fight harder.

Damen remained, for all appearances, unbothered and unconcerned. When Laurent pulled at his wrists, Damen merely tightened his fingers around them, the gold cuff digging into the bone, reminding him always of its presence there. When Laurent arched and twisted, Damen simply bore down harder, his teeth sharp and unyielding on Laurent's soft and tender body.

All the while, whatever had been growing in Laurent all day, whatever had convinced him to throw all caution out the window and tell Damen that he wanted this, only seemed to slowly swell. It tore at his throat, his belly, from the inside, scratching and clawing to get out. Between that and Damen, Laurent was losing two battles, and eventually he could no longer keep himself fully in check. As Damen sank his teeth into Laurent's chest, a bare inch from one sensitive nipple, Laurent cried out and he felt his hips move on their own, thrusting against Damen's thigh where it was pressed down between Laurent's legs.

Once he started, he couldn't seem to stop himself, and in a moment, he was grinding against Damen in a steady rhythm, chasing the limited relief he could catch through the heavy fabric still binding him.

Damen allowed this to go on for a minute or two, but then he readjusted himself so that his own powerful thighs bracketed Laurent's. Then he drew them shut, forcing Laurent to still.

Laurent let out a frustrated groan. "You beast," he snapped, his voice altered by the situation but still coming out cool.

In response, Damen only laughed at him, a low sound that reverberated through his teeth where they were now latched onto Laurent's collarbone. The sound and the feel of it only served to drive Laurent deeper into his own internal frenzy. But this was a revelation. Maybe he couldn't free himself from Damen's grip, maybe he couldn't bite back, but he still had his tongue and his teeth, and they had more than one use.

"When I told you I wanted you, this is not what I meant," he said. "You can't even follow the simplest instructions. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." He did his best to narrow his eyes at Damen, though it was difficult to do, as Damen had now moved on to Laurent's neck. Not the side of it either, where his ministrations would be tender and warming, but right at the front, where his teeth felt shocking and sent a jolt of pain down through him that did nothing to diminish the fire racing in his blood.

"Maybe I should find someone else to fuck me," Laurent said, doing his level best to inject the words with a careless sense of ease, as though he were truly at his leisure to free himself from this situation, step out into the hall, and call for the next willing comer.

He felt the exact moment Damen's teeth released him, a relief and a torment wrapped into one breathless second. "Laurent," he said, and Laurent opened his eyes to see Damen watching him, for all appearances utterly undisturbed. "Stop talking."

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Laurent said. His lip twisted. "So you could feel like you'd tormented the talk right out of me. Sorry, lover, you're not that good."

If he had hoped to spark any annoyance in Damen, it was unclear whether he had success. Damen only grinned in response, confident enough in his own abilities that Laurent's challenge to them didn't faze him. He moved again, just slightly, and this time when he applied his teeth, slowly, over Laurent's nipple, Laurent clamped down on any vocal response Damen might otherwise have gotten out of him. He couldn't stop his breathing, though, from turning shallow in his chest.

The pain -- and it was painful, as Damen slowly, slowly bit down and held very still -- sparked through Laurent in little bursts, fading and brightening, again and again. For several seconds, he truly was incapable of speech, and the knowledge of this sent both arousal and anger flowing through him from his head to his cock.

Again, Damen released his hold, and rational thought returned to Laurent, coalescing once more into language. He searched rapidly through his mind, trying to find something he could say that would strike the right balance between pushing Damen without truly upsetting him.

For his part, Damen had now switched his weapon of choice from teeth to tongue, and he was using it to soothe over some of the more tender marks his teeth had left scattered over Laurent's chest and belly. Its touch was light, so it was a testament to how hard some of the bites had been that even this slight pressure sent little aftershocks of pain gently rolling through him.

Wherever Damen's tongue went, the air cooled Laurent's skin, but this did nothing to dampen the fire rushing beneath, and Laurent could feel that if he lost focus now, it would be some time before he got it back again.

"Perhaps I'll go find Nikandros," Laurent said, again impressed with how level he managed to keep his voice, considering the fact that he seemed increasingly to consist of his growing need and little else.

This, finally, did seem to force Damen to pause. He looked up again, from down near Laurent's navel now, to meet Laurent's waiting gaze. "Nikandros," he repeated, not exactly asking a question, but inviting Laurent to elaborate nevertheless.

Laurent inclined his head in lazy affirmation, as well as he could against the pillows. "Mmm," he agreed, "I imagine it wouldn't be difficult to goad him into bending me over the nearest surface."

It was impossible to tell how seriously Damen was really taking him, and of course, Laurent’s words were not remotely true. Nikandros would sooner have thrown him off a balcony than fuck him, if not for his own sake, then certainly for Damen's. Surely Damen knew that. But whether he was merely playing along with Laurent's game, or the thought of it alone really stirred him that deeply, he narrowed his eyes at Laurent, looking every bit as dangerous as his body made him. Laurent swallowed, feeling the echo of Damen's teeth on his throat as he did so, but he didn't allow his gaze to waver.

"That's what you want?" Damen said. His voice had dropped to an even lower register than usual. "Flipped and mounted, fucked with efficiency, with no care taken for how it feels for you?"

Laurent felt color rise to his cheeks, but he ignored it. "I believe that's what I asked for," he said. "But if you're not capable, let me know now, and I'll find someone who is."

This time when Damen laughed, the sound was dark and steeped with the edge Laurent had been chasing. He suppressed a shiver at the sound of it, at the knowledge that while his body was pinned and held in place, all he needed were a few choice words to drag Damen to his purpose.

"Why do you need anyone then?" Damen said. "If all you want is to be filled, you're smart enough to do that on your own."

Laurent felt his brow arch, asking a question he wasn't quite sure he wanted to put into words. But Damen knew him, and he understood.

His hands were still wrapped around Laurent's wrists, but over the course of their conversation, his grip had loosened. Laurent was aware of this in the same way he was aware of the pressure of Damen's weight over his thighs, still holding him solidly down on the bed. His mind stretched itself in three directions: how to get away, how to make Damen do what he wanted, what to say next. He raced down every path at equal speed.

"I should just leave you here," Damen went on. "What would you do, if I did? If I left you here now, like this?" He dipped down to press his next words into the bruised and abused flesh of Laurent's navel. "I'm sure you would pretend not to care, until I was out of sight. But as soon as I was gone, you would be scrambling to find something you could use. Hmm," Damen hummed thoughtfully, and for the first time since all of this had started, he turned away from Laurent to instead survey the room.

His eyes trailed over the relatively limited contents of the chamber, designed in the sparse Akielon style. Laurent, despite himself, waited in terse silence to hear what Damen would say next.

Damen's gaze flicked from the small table beside the bed to the couch in the center of the room and back to the bed itself. Finally, he returned his attention to Laurent, meeting his eyes with unflinching assessment, and Laurent was surprised to find his own coolness reflected back at him, something that always surprised him to see in Damen, even though it did happen occasionally.

"I would suggest the hairbrush," he said. "The handle is the right shape. Close enough, anyway. But I don't think that would be enough for you. You would reject it out of hand, wouldn't you?" He nipped at one of the old bite marks, the gentleness of the gesture undermined by the way it sent tiny bolts of pain flying out from the new bruise. "It's not enough for you to be filled and fucked, is it? You want the stretch, the burn. You want it to hurt." Damen paused, as though considering, and no doubt taking in the color high in Laurent's face, the way his breath had gone shallow and tight. "The bedpost then, maybe," he said after a moment.

Immediately Laurent's mind was alight with the picture of it: himself, dripping with oil and so desperate to feed the hungry thing inside him that he impaled himself on the heavy wooden bedpost. It was certainly big enough, bigger even than Damen, and as he pictured himself sinking down onto it, stretching to take it, his legs shaking with the effort of holding himself in the right position, he could almost imagine the hunger being satisfied by it. Almost, but not quite.

And again, somehow, Damen understood. Either by Laurent's face or by some innate part of him, he knew that this would not be enough, and when Laurent opened his eyes it was to find Damen smirking up at him. "Should I leave you to it then?" he asked, coy and pleased with himself.

Laurent glared down at him. "You wouldn't dare."

"No," Damen said, though Laurent could tell he didn't mean this in response to what Laurent had said, but rather in response to what Damen himself had, about leaving Laurent to fuck himself on the bedpost. "That leaves you on the wrong side of the equation, doesn't it?" It was not a question, and they both knew it. "You don't want to use something to fuck yourself. You want to  _ be _ used, don't you?"

He paused here as though he really were waiting for an answer now, but Laurent refused to give him one. Again, he felt anger and arousal both flare in him together, and he would not give voice to either.

"No words for me now, sweetheart? Come on," he said, goading now, "tell me you need me. All you have to do is say yes."

Laurent drew in enough breath to speak, and tried his best to ignore the way it dragged and rasped on its way into his lungs. "Not you specifically," he managed, though the cool remove he had been able to maintain so far was officially lost to him.

But Damen shook his head. "No one knows what you need like I do."

"I believe I  _ told _ you --" 

"What you want," Damen interrupted. "But I know what you need."

Through all of this teasing, Damen's grip had loosened more and more on Laurent's wrists, and in a surge of frustration, Laurent finally took his chance. He wrenched both wrists and with an angry twist, managed to pull them free. He didn't waste a fraction of a second, instead driving one hand immediately into Damen's hair, where his fingers curled savagely and he used all the strength of his arm to pull Damen away from him. With his other hand, he pushed himself up the bed, giving himself enough leverage to pull his legs out of the cage of Damen's thighs.

Damen made a sound that could have come from pain or from rage or from amusement, it was impossible to tell, but either way, Laurent knew he couldn't afford to let it slow him down. He released his hold on Damen's hair, only to press one of his feet against Damen's chest, shoving him away. He didn't have a real plan, exactly, but that was only because he knew he wouldn't get far.

Sure enough, in a flash of movement and a degree of strength that was truly impossible to fully grasp, Damen grabbed Laurent's ankle, used his hold on it to pull Laurent bodily back down the bed, and then, with little more than his grip on Laurent's leg, he flipped Laurent onto his front.

Before Laurent could even think about trying to move, Damen was on him, holding Laurent down with one hand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades. In his other, he quickly gathered Laurent's wrists again, and then they were over his head, held together against the bed with bruising force. Damen settled his weight on top of him, so that even through their remaining layers of clothes, Laurent could feel how hard he was against him.

"Admit it, Laurent," Damen said, leaning down to speak the words low and hot against Laurent's ear. "Admit that you need it to be me. My cock stretching you open and filling you up. My hands holding you down. Admit that you need it to be me, because I love you, and I know you, and I'll give you what you need." He was whispering now, nuzzling his nose against the soft parts of Laurent's neck, the join of his shoulder, the space behind his ear. "Just say yes," he said, "and I'll give it to you."

A not insignificant part of Laurent still wanted to fight, wanted to buck and writhe and try to dislodge Damen from his place, to kick and spit and push back against him. But this would only be done to goad Damen further, and Damen had already won that fight. Still, it didn't mean Laurent had to be happy about it.

Damen's hand was still firm against his back, and it made breathing even more difficult than it had already been. Between that and the clawing, fighting animal that had been making its home in Laurent all day, he had to work hard to push past his own labored breathing. Finally, though, he gained enough control back to spit his answer over his shoulder. " _ Yes _ ," he said, and it came out as a hiss, betraying his anger, his frustration, his very real and very desperate desire to have everything Damen was offering him.

"Good," Damen said, and his voice was so satisfied that it only served to stoke the flames burning through Laurent even higher.

"Get on with it then," Laurent bit out.

Damen laughed, and finally he released Laurent's hand, released the relentless pressure on Laurent's back, to sit back on his heels and begin working Laurent's pants down over his hips.

Laurent, relieved that this was finally moving in the right direction, used his newfound freedom of movement only to lift up enough that he could remove his shirt, which he dropped carelessly to the floor. After everything, he wanted the satisfaction of feeling Damen's hot skin against his own.

It only took Damen a moment to unlace Laurent's pants enough, despite the bad angle, to get them off, and then they joined the shirt on the floor. There was a brief moment where nothing happened, but Laurent didn't say anything because he, correctly, assumed Damen was untying the chiton and allowing it to fall away, leaving him as bare as Laurent.

Then Damen was leaning over him, reaching out to the bedside table where they kept the oil. Damen would never agree to fuck Laurent without at least some preparation, no matter how Laurent might beg for it, so he didn't bother. But Damen had enough of an understanding of Laurent's mood that he didn't go for his usual methods either.

There were days when Laurent would have been more than happy to languish for long, untethered minutes in this stage. When he would have liked nothing better than for Damen to slowly, slowly take him apart with nothing but his fingers. When nothing would have made him happier than to feel Damen sink easily into him, having spent a tortuously long time opening him up with his hands and his tongue.

Today was not one of those days.

Today Laurent wanted --  _ needed _ , as Damen put it -- to feel his armor crack. The feeling inside him was primal, animal, and it would only be sated by force, by pressure, by pain.

Behind him, Damen moved, changing his position. He was still sat up on his knees, but he used one of them now to push Laurent's legs apart, spreading them so that he could settle between them. In a gesture that somehow managed to be a mix of punishment, praise, and perfunctory instruction all together, he struck the flat of one hand against Laurent's ass, and immediately Laurent canted his hips back, spread his thighs further, presented himself.

To get the leverage he needed to hold himself in this position, he drew his arms toward his chest, pulling himself up onto his elbows and dipping his head down into the pillows. He had been so hard for so long now that his cock radiated almost more pain than pleasure through him, and yet he wouldn't have had it any other way. Against the mattress, the new bruises over his chest and belly ached and sparked so that the pain and arousal were all mixed up together in a heady concoction that allowed Laurent to float in the moment, somehow both grounded and removed at the same time.

Grudgingly, he admitted (if only to himself) that Damen may have been onto something when he'd said that he knew what Laurent needed even more than Laurent himself did.

When Damen finally touched him, Laurent didn't even try to stop the sound that tore itself out of his throat. He felt the pressure of two slick fingers against him, pressing relentlessly, but slowly, into him. The muscle parted, his body opening -- being forced to open -- for Damen. And it did hurt, the immediate, surface-level stretch, paired with the deeper, internal ache. But this was exactly what Laurent had been craving, chasing, fighting for all day, and to finally have it felt satisfying and gratifying. Still, he wanted more and more and more.

Damen didn't wait, didn't pause, just kept pressing slowly until his fingers were all the way inside, as far as they would go.

Laurent could practically  _ feel _ Damen looking, staring at the place where his own fingers disappeared inside Laurent's body, and the knowledge of Damen's attention so fixed on this private, vulnerable part of him set an uncomfortable, delicious shame licking at the inside of his gut. He would have squirmed against it, but his movement was prohibited by the weight of Damen's other hand, which had moved to rest against the small of Laurent's back.

" _ Damen _ ," he said, his tone unmistakable peevish, even as his voice came out breathy and obviously affected. His impatience earned him another slap to his ass, which had not been what he was going for, but he counted it as a win anyway.

Beside his two fingers already inside, Damen pressed just the tip of his thumb, more teasing at the idea of a further stretch than actually promising anything. Laurent whined, past the point of feeling embarrassed by the sound, and then Damen drew his fingers away entirely.

Before Laurent could complain, he felt the head of Damen's cock against him. He waited only a second, teasing again, before he allowed his weight to bear him down, breaching Laurent's body with an utterly unstoppable solidity. It was slow, but it was no gentler for the pace. It would have hurt less if Damen had gone faster, thrust in and allowed Laurent's body to adjust to the intrusion quickly. Instead, it was merciless. Every millimeter gained was another agonizing moment of deep, pulsing pain to be processed, accepted, and moved past. Only to then be faced with another, and another.

It was debilitating and shocking and so, so good. Laurent had thought he wanted  _ fast _ and  _ hard _ , when what he'd really needed was simply  _ unforgiving _ .

It also earned him the first proof that Damen was affected by all of this too, his breathing gone shaky and ragged behind Laurent, his weight leaning closer and closer above him. Finally, Damen had pressed inside as deep as he could, even changing the placement of his hand on Laurent's body -- between his shoulders again now -- to better his angle.

And then for several long minutes, he moved, but only just. He didn't draw out to thrust back in, but rather gently rocked his hips, bearing down against Laurent so that the sensation spreading through him came from the force of his movement rather than the pace of it. Damen was a wall of pressure, an immovable force, an unbeatable strength. Laurent tried to push back against him, but beneath Damen's weight, he couldn't move at all. He clawed and gripped at the bedsheets, he panted and keened and he would have begged, if he could still have summoned words, but none of it mattered.

He could do nothing to change what Damen wanted, had no power to affect him, and so he had no power here at all. None left to him anyway. And with this knowledge, with this understanding, came freedom.

Knowing that he could not change the outcome of whatever happened here now, together with knowing that Damen loved him and understood him -- that he was safe and cared for -- allowed him to let go.

He released his need to control the situation, any and every situation. Released his expectations, his compulsive desire to think through anything and everything that might happen before it did so.

Released the hunger, allowing it, for the first time all day, to unfurl through him and accept what it was given.

He felt the moment he went boneless beneath Damen, all of the fight finally going out of him as he surrendered both to Damen and to the bone-deep need that lived inside, and he knew that Damen could feel it too, because that was the moment he at last unleashed himself. With an elated sigh that Laurent could feel where Damen had moved to lean his head between Laurent's shoulders, Damen pulled his hips back, drawing himself out of Laurent slowly before thrusting back into him in the first motion that could truly be considered what Laurent had been asking for this entire time.

Together they made mirrored sounds, somewhere between a cry and a moan, and Laurent reached back to thread the fingers of one hand through Damen's hair, holding him close. Damen sank his teeth into the juncture of Laurent's neck and shoulder, in a gentle imitation of his earlier biting. This time he did it more to hold Laurent still and close than to hurt him.

He had one hand pressed into the mattress to hold himself up and the other wrapped around Laurent's hip, and he was fucking him in earnest now, his pace building, pushing Laurent steadily toward the edge he had been skirting for hours, long before Damen had even entered the room.

Laurent knew he wasn't going to last, and if he had been less greedy for the release of it, he might have dredged up enough speech to tell Damen not to touch him yet. But this,  _ this _ , was what he had been waiting for, and he wanted it.

He felt his entire being concentrated between his legs: his cock straining and twitching as it occasionally brushed the sheets, as his hips were still tipped up and back to allow Damen to fuck into him easily; the burning stretch of muscle where Damen had forced his body to open for him, to let him in; the pooling, liquid sensation of heat that felt as though he were melting from the inside, reshaped, remade into something wholly new through nothing but Damen's will and Damen's attention and Damen's unyielding, unsparing determination.

So when Damen moved the hand pressed into the mattress to instead wrap around Laurent's throat, Laurent didn't stop him. And when he moved the hand from Laurent's hip to wrap around Laurent's cock, Laurent didn't say a word.

In the end, Damen barely had to touch him -- just one, maybe two, gentle strokes over the head and Laurent was spilling, crying out, doing his level best to press back against Damen's cock and forward again into the grip of his hand. Damen continued to fuck him through it, until Laurent was keening and oversensitive. And then he stopped moving, though his own cock remained hard and heavy inside, and just held Laurent for a long, warm moment. They breathed together, Damen's arm wrapped tight around Laurent's chest, until finally Laurent felt that he could take it, and he nodded, trusting that Damen would feel the movement and interpret it correctly.

When Damen began to move again, it was slower. Laurent didn't know if this was for his benefit or merely what Damen wanted, but he appreciated it nonetheless. Damen's hand remained wrapped around Laurent's throat, but his fingers had gone loose and easy, resting there more than truly holding. The other had retreated back to Laurent's hip, and for a few minutes, Damen simply rocked and ground his hips against Laurent, taking his pleasure from Laurent's body at his own easy pace.

Deep, deep inside himself, Laurent knew that he loved this, loved the diffuse and elastic place he was left in when his own release had been reached and achieved and left behind, when all that was left was for Damen to lose himself in Laurent. To stop thinking about what Laurent wanted or needed and consider only himself, how to reach his own end. It often turned him warm and pliable like this, his pace slowing and easing, his body warm and encompassing around Laurent's, the living embodiment of a summer afternoon.

Laurent caught his breath and shuddered at the feel of Damen still pressing deep inside him, all of him heavy and solid and good over and around him. The hunger had been satisfied for a few minutes, but it stirred again as Damen began to move more -- faster and with more exaggerated motions, driving himself into Laurent as he chased his own release. Damen buried his face in Laurent's neck and held him tight, moving his hand from his throat to instead wrap around his chest. Laurent knew the moment he came by the way he shook and moaned and held his hips down tightly to Laurent's, as though he wanted to spill himself as deeply in Laurent as possible.

As Damen caught his breath, resting once more between Laurent's shoulders, Laurent became uncomfortably aware of how hard he had grown once more. It was not the gentle stirring of potential interest he sometimes found as Damen worked for his own release, but rather a full and insistent resurgence.

After a moment, Damen shifted back and away, and Laurent hissed as his body tried to adjust quickly to the loss. Damen didn't do anything else, but when Laurent tried to push himself up, Damen pressed him back down with a firm hand. Laurent felt himself flush as he realized what Damen was doing, what he was looking at, and another round of that enticing sort of shame licked through him, stoking the flame. He tried not to imagine what he must look like, fucked open and filled with Damen's spend. Was it leaking from him, he wondered? He shivered but Damen held him open, spread for him to see, and Laurent’s cock, despite everything, gave a strong and sudden jerk of pointed interest.

And then Damen's hands were on his hips, turning him over onto his back. His gaze was heavy on Laurent's body, trailing over him from his bitten-pink lips to the marks he had left all over the otherwise fine, white skin, and finally to his cock, which was as hard as it had ever been.

As soon as Damen saw this, his face changed from comfortable, post-orgasm happiness to fierce determination. Or perhaps determined ferocity. Whatever it was, it made Laurent shiver with anticipation and not a small degree of fear.

He had no desire left in him to fight, however, so when Damen set his left hand down on Laurent's lower abdomen, clearly intended to hold him in place, Laurent didn't argue. He merely waited to see what Damen would do next.

Expecting Damen to wrap his other hand around his cock, Laurent moved without thinking when he instead nudged Laurent's thighs apart again. Even then, Laurent didn't realize what Damen intended to do. Only when he felt those same two fingers pressing into his fucked out hole did understanding finally come to him, and by then it was too late to do anything about it, even if he'd wanted to. His back arched up off the bed, but clearly Damen had anticipated this. He held Laurent down with the hand against his belly.

The feeling of stretching around Damen was gone now, of course, and he had been prepared enough earlier that nothing had torn. Still, the skin was sensitive, the muscle sore, and as Damen curled his fingers against the spot inside him that sent deep, rolling waves of pleasure through his entire body, Laurent couldn't help the cry that escaped him at the overwhelming sensation of it.

Damen lightened his touch in response, but still he kept pressure there, gently fucking his fingers, but making his focus less on thrusting in and out and more on increasing and decreasing his pressure in a pattern that quickly had Laurent spiraling.

Perhaps dissatisfied with the angle, perhaps only wanting Laurent closer, eventually Damen moved his free hand from Laurent's front to his back, using it to pull Laurent up so that he was essentially in Damen's lap. He put his own hands on Damen's shoulders to steady himself, Damen's fingers all the while moving against him on the inside, pulling and coaxing him toward something he wasn't even sure he wanted, and yet was powerless to stop.

The feeling remained oversensitive and overwhelming for an indeterminate length of time, until eventually Laurent was pushing his hips down to meet Damen's hand, his body moving and rocking to brush the pads of Damen's fingers more firmly against that place, steadily carrying him toward a fuller kind of completion.

He tipped his head back, and immediately Damen's teeth and lips and tongue were on his throat, kissing and finally bearing down in a mirror of how all of this had started, and at the feeling of those teeth once more on his throat, paired with the relentless press of strong fingers inside him, Laurent came for the second time.

This time it was slow, rolling through him, and when he spilled between their bodies, the quality was different, coaxed and teased fully from a different part of him. It went on longer than the first had too, and Damen seemed to know how long to maintain the pressure inside, and when to let up, resulting in multiple waves of pleasure running through Laurent, who kept moving against Damen's hand for a long time. His eyes were shut tight, but even still, he felt tears prick at the corners as the intensity of the feeling built and built and built before it finally began ebb.

Until, at last, Laurent stopped moving, chasing, craving, and he slumped forward against Damen's chest.

Damen removed his fingers gently, and for a moment, he held Laurent in place, wrapped one arm firmly around his waist, the other around the back of his neck. Then he tipped Laurent back, laying him down once more on the bed.

This was when, normally, Laurent would have stood, taking a moment to gather himself back together. He would find a towel, or at least a spare cloth, and pour them a glass of water. But his legs were numb and useless, the inside of him was sore, and the outside of him was bruised and livid with the marks from Damen's teeth. So he stayed where Damen left him, and instead, Damen climbed carefully off of the bed, and when he came back, it was to set a cup of water beside Laurent on the little table, and to gently swipe a clean towel over Laurent, cleaning him of the vestiges of two orgasms before lying back down beside him.

He kissed Laurent's cheek, and then the tip of his nose, and then his forehead. Laurent opened his eyes just enough to glare at him -- at least, he hoped it was a glare. But Damen only laughed.

"I bet you're not thinking of Nikandros now, are you?" he said, his grin so cocky and self-assured that Laurent couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. 

Not that it stopped him from grabbing the pillow from beneath his head and hitting Damen in the face with it. He heard Damen laughing even before he swatted the pillow away.

"Damen," Laurent said, layering sweetness thickly into his voice.

Damen raised his eyebrows, his smile easy and joyful and ready for anything.

"Stop talking," Laurent said, and then he leaned in to kiss that ridiculous, perfect smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I have been working on this all day lol, so hopefully it's decent. If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment, they make me very happy!!


End file.
